


Wolverine

by EdmondJames_Dantes



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Growing Up, Mention of Suicidal Ideation and Suicide, Minor Character Death, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:52:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9627074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdmondJames_Dantes/pseuds/EdmondJames_Dantes
Summary: 100% reason to remember the name.





	

Leanne is five years old. She wants to be Wolverine for Eddie's dress-up birthday party.  Her daddy bites his lip and looks away when she asks for him to make claws, but her momma says _What does it matter, love?_   The day of the party, her daddy gives her small wooden claws with soft little foam-tips that stick out of a pair of tiny leather gloves that fit her hands perfectly.

 

Leanne is six years old and she punches Chuck for saying that she _throws like a girl_. The principal calls in her parents, and her momma stands up for her, and Anne says with a voice like ice and power: _Leanne might throw like a girl, but she's certainly shown that that's plenty strong enough._ Her daddy makes her apologise for using her fist instead of her words, but he also turns around and makes Chuck apologise for being rude.

 

Leanne's seven years old and there's something that is different about her, something that sets her apart from the other students. It sits in the back of her mind, when she has to get changed into her swimsuit with the girls and wonders why she can't wear just shorts like the other boys, but it's an idea too big for her to hold on to, and her mind shies away from it, even as her eyes shy away from the girls.

 

Leanne is eight years old and she doesn't want to wear her school dress. Skirts were one thing; she could pretend to be a gladiator or some foreign prince, but a _dress?_ No. She cries and screams and absolutely refuses. Exhausted and exasperated, her daddy snaps _Well, then you can wear the boys' uniform!_ Leanne quietens instantly. Her momma raises an eyebrow, and calmly says _Put your shoes on. We're going shopping._ There's further argument, but all Leanne remembers is walking into school the next day wearing a boys' button down instead of a girls' blouse, trousers instead of the dreaded dress, and shiny new lace up boots instead of her old buckle shoes.

 

Leanne's nine years old. She doesn't like being called Leanne. It feels wrong and it grates against her ears. She likes her godfather's name much more. Her daddy always said that if she'd been born a boy, she'd have been named Leroy, after Leroy Jethro Moore. _"Momma, can I be Leroy Gibbs instead of Leanne Gibbs?"_  Her momma looks like she's gonna cry. But just as Leanne opens her mouth to take it back, because she never wants to hurt her momma, Anne kneels down and says _"Yes, you can be Leroy. Do you want to be a boy? Do you want to be my son?"_  Leroy nods solemnly; that sounds about right.

 

Leroy's ten years old.  He's taller, and stronger, than ever before, all skin and bones and lanky limbs now from an early growth spurt, except for his soft round belly and plump cheeks. He still doesn't talk much, not to his classmates, nor his teachers, but he smiles a little more easily, just a crooked little thing which turns big and toothy when he laughs aloud at the _Captain America_ comic that he's not meant to be reading in the back of English class.

 

Leroy's eleven years old, and when he stands up at the end of math class, Ed tugs roughly on his shirt. Leroy wheels round on him, scowling, "What?" But Ed's got dumb confusion on his face, "I think you need to see the nurse," he points to Leroy's chair. There's an odd dark red mark on the seat of it, and all of a sudden, Leroy realises that the stickiness between his thighs isn't sweat from the hot day. He's not wounded, or in pain, but he is bleeding.

 

Leroy's twelve years old. He hates his body.

 

Leroy's thirteen years old. He receives his first testosterone injection and it hurts like hell. He whimpers a lot, and cries just a little, clutching at his mom's hand. His dad puts his large palm on the back of his neck murmurs, _"Nobody likes needles, son, but you're doing well."_

 

Leroy's fourteen years old. He's in love with a _Dodge Challenger_. He spends his days in school and his afternoons working at the Cooper farm to save up money and his evenings in the garage with his dad, learning how to work with wood. His dad says he can't wait to teach him how to drive, that he's so proud of _his boy_ for his hard work and strong determination to earn what he wants. Leroy still hates his body, some parts _(or lack thereof)_ more than others, but it's made easier by his mom's empathy and understanding, and his dad's staunch defence of _him_ in the face of all the old folk in Stillwater who think Leroy's delusional or crazy or just plain stupid.

 

Leroy's fifteen years old. His momma killed herself a few weeks' back to escape death by cancer.

 

Leroy's sixteen years old. He feels broken. He's depressed, and anxious all the time, and so, so full of rage. He's a little ball of explosive energy, contained only by sheer will. Inside, he's hurting and falling apart. He's in desperate need of saving, but his dad doesn't even seem to notice. He won't find out for a few more years, so sharp and jagged on the outside that his dad can't muster the courage to tell him now, but his dad spends six months worth of family savings to bribe a judge to alter Leroy's birth certificate to read _Leroy Jethro Gibbs_ and _male_.

 

Leroy's seventeen years old. Leroy buys the car of his dreams with promises to himself that he'll fix her up until she's perfect. He sends all his time in the garage working on her, but he shuts his dad out. When that doesn't work, he yells until his old man goes away.

 

Leroy's eighteen years old. He's scared he's going to kill himself. He wants to, desperately, he just wants everything to be over with. He and his dad don't get on so well anymore, he's pretty much always pissed off at his dad now, but there's a tiny part of him that still thinks his daddy is as strong as Superman and can fix anything and everything. It's his last thread of hope. He walks into the kitchen as Jack is putting dinner on the table, and before his dad can place Leroy's plate on the table, Leroy carefully lowers his knife there. _"I can't live like this. I need surgery. I need a flat chest. I can't hold on much longer."_

 

Leroy's nineteen years old. Stillwater is a small town, and everyone knows him as an angry boy-child, everyone knows his mom died, everyone knows he used to be a girl. Leroy's a private young man, and their _knowing_ is agony to him. All he wants is to be accepted for who he is and who he wants to be. He'll never truly be accepted in Stillwater, not when he has to fight to grow into the man he thinks he can become. Leroy's nineteen years old and he has to have his dad pay for chest surgery. Leroy wakes up from the operation to see the clock slide up the hospital wall, and when his mind recovers from the drugs, he knows that he is free to make a new start, somewhere far, far away.

 

Leroy is twenty years old, and he's never done anything the easy way. He's a fighter; made strong by the battles that no-one else has had to fight, made fierce by the constant refusal to just fit the ready-made mould, made ruthless by the battles that have defeated him, yet necessity has driven him onward, and onward. He feels invincible. This is why he doesn't hesitate to fight with Chuck and Ed, throws himself head-first into it when they try to bully him one last time, letting his righteous anger and core of iron will propel his fist forward. His rage simmers in frustration as his father stops the fight with a warning shot whilst Leroy is in a headlock. He stumbles away. Chuck and Ed are nothing to him. He has a marine uniform to don, and a train to catch. There's a girl sitting at the station when he gets there. She's not waiting for him, but when Shannon smiles at him, something he's been waiting for clicks into place deep inside his soul. It's kind of funny - he never thought he'd be lucky enough to fall in love, let alone have it returned - yet the best thing of his entire life has just happened, and he's only twenty years old.

 

Leroy is twenty-one years old, and his icy rage melts beneath the warmth of Shannon's serenity.

**Author's Note:**

> I've done my best to be respectful in writing a trans character and the difficulties one might go through, but if there's something you think I might've done better, or differently, please do let me know (keeping in mind that not all transgender people have the exact same set of experiences).
> 
> I'm considering writing a second part to this, one that spans most of Gibbs' NCIS years, something that doesn't focus on his gender as the main part of the story (I mostly wrote this to challenge myself to write something with a deadline, that's why it's very formulaic). Let me know if you're interested and I might give it a go. I'm also willing to take into account anyone's preferences for a romantic partner, if you want romance, given that I haven't writ it yet.
> 
> By the way, if anyone reads this and thinks of a better title, you would make my night by telling it to me.
> 
> Last thing, I'd love to improve my writing, so please, if you feel up to some constructive criticism, it would be great if you'd leave a comment for me! 
> 
> Thank you very, very much for reading to the finish line!
> 
> Cheers,  
> Edmond.


End file.
